Realizations
by Lapis Lazuli Ichigo
Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check ,enter America's brilliant plan. Usage of both human and country names. No actual pairings intended.
1. Prologue: Bright and Early

Realizations

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

_**XXxxxxxXX**_

_**Prologue: **_

_**Bright and Early**_

_**XXxxxxXX**_

Mr. and Mrs. Vilca were in charge of the World Conference Center—had been for close to twenty years now, and although they had seen many things come and go, they were not entirely immune to the people who entered in through the doors of their protected building. For one thing, Mr. Vilca had always arrived early at exactly five a.m. every morning to check the kitchen, insure clean up was done to all rooms, and guest rooms, as well as any of the other maintenance duties that were needed.

Often times, he'd arrive just in time to let Arthur Kirkland, the United Kingdom's Representative in, and after exchanging their usual greeting, both would go their separate ways until the next time. This was normal.

Then ten minutes later other representatives would trickle in and strike up a conversation with other members, and as time crept closer and closer to ten o'clock the last (and probably most well known of the representatives) Alfred F. Jones would make his appearance running through the conference meeting doors, and announcing in a loud voice that "The Hero is here."

Naturally, others would offer well meaning (and threatening) greetings before all the diplomats took their places, ready to begin yet another World Conference meeting…

And yet even as Mr. Vilca rubbed his eyes he knew today would not be normal.

Less than five feet away, Alfred F. Jones, America Representative waved—the time was five oh five a.m.

o0o

Author's Note: Next chapter will be up within the next couple of hours.

**Please Read and Review, so I know some is actually thinking of reading this, and didn't just check on the fanfic by mistake.**

Thanks a bunch!

Lapis Lazuli Ichigo


	2. Step By Step

Realizations

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

**_XXxxxxXX_**

**_Step By Step_**

**_Part One_**

**_XXxxxxXX_**

**World Conference Hotel, A Few Hours Earlier**

Alfred F .Jones was a highly complex person in many ways. For one thing, he hated World Conference meetings more than he hated his former (current) enemy Russia. For another, he really wanted to be himself but was forced to act stupid on the orders long given to him by all his bosses.

It was nearly three a.m. and he was sitting in front of his computer, blanket drawn over his legs as he sat waiting for a certain reply, while he read from a large leather-bound book (_The Black Book of Hopes_ By Ms. Ree) propped up against his computer tower. A small '_bing'_ came from computer and Alfred blinked turning his attention back to the computer as a small file popped up. It was an e-mail containing only a few sentences, and a signature.

_As much as I would like to tell you not to go through with this plan of yours, I'm afraid if something is not done soon, America will be in danger…you have my permission._

_Do __not__ mess this up._

_Obama _

Alfred smirked, an evil laugh falling from his lips, as he jumped up from the computer, quickly erasing the e-mail, and running off his closet to get started. He needed to hurry if he wanted everything in place in time for the meeting.

He ran through his clothes quickly mixing and matching outfits, while comparing them against himself in the nearby mirror—"nope, too Iggy-like—hell, no I am not going to look like Francis…" He trailed off digging through his nearby travel bag for some more clothes. It took a full thirty minutes before he was satisfied, but it was well worth it.

He was wearing a dark brown pair of slacks, and a tuxedo outfit complete with a white undershirt and a blue tie. He turned in circles in front of the mirror before nodding to himself, and then moving off to fix the rest of his room. He needed to make as many parallels between his usual self and his pretend self…

He rearranged his clothes hanging them neatly on their racks, cleaning up his discards food wraps into a trash bay and tossing it out in to the hall (a maid would soon make the rounds and collect it), washed the few dishes he had used during his small stay (he had only been in the hotel for about eight hours), cleaning out his suitcase of all his superhero comics, switching out his World Conference ID with the name 'James G. Jones' before he sighed, getting started on the most tedious part of this whole prank.

The presentation he would need to present to the other nations with concrete and absolutely hard facts. Still, he gritted his teeth, and went back to the computer pulling up his government e-mail and scanning through the information he asked for. He grinned happily when he came across a pre-made power-point as well as some speech notes Hilary had sent his way.

He quickly printed out the notes and saved the PowerPoint on his flash drive five times (just to be sure under 'serious' names numbered one through five), before shutting off his computer and walking out the door. Even though he was tempted to run, he kept his cool walking confidently down the hall.

While in the elevator he fixed his tie again, messing with his posture as he waited for his stop.

Things were going to get interesting.

XXxxxxXX

**World Conference Gates, Present Time**

Alfred waved calmly waiting as Steve neared the gates.

If he was going to make this work, he needed Steve's help…unknowingly of course.

"Good morning." Alfred said using every bit of Hollywood acting he had. He needn't have bothered because the simple fact of the matter was; Steve Vilca's world was thrown off entirely by Alfred's impossible early raising.

"G-Good Morning, Mr. Jones." Steve replied back fumbling with the gate keys. After a second the gate opened.

"I was wondering if you could do me a few favors."Alfred smiled softly, yet confidently.

Steve blinked. "Favors, sir?"

"Yes, today instead of Alfred's usual hamburgers, please prepare a balanced meal of steak, and vegetables—"

"Wait, a second sir. Alfred? Aren't you Alfred?"

Alfred blinked, shaking his head. "I'm afraid not." He took his ID from his pocket. "I am James G. Jones, his younger brother. My older brother took ill so I have come in his place."

More blinking. "I see…what were your other favors, sir?"

"The rest is simple. Is it possible to have a copy of today's meeting made? I need them for review purposes?" Que the dazzling, yet sexy smile.

Steve nodded feverishly. "O-of course. I'll have it sent to your room."

"Thank you for your hard work. I'll take my leave now." Alfred said walking away. He turned the corner smiling brightly before he shook himself out of it.

He'd made it this far, and he wasn't going to give up now. He straightened up, and entered the conference room fixing the table (there were some empty packets of Chinese candies, probably left from the last meeting), before setting up the projector, and the podium. He read through his notes again while the computer booted up. He was fidgety, the separation from anything remotely enjoyable was getting to him, but he steeled his resolve, knowing what needed to be done.

He remembered all the other World Conference meetings, and all the insults being thrown his way from both friends and foes, and nearly cursed. Just because he was idealistic did not mean he was stupid, and frankly all the assumptions that he was a 'stupid git that happened to be lucky' pissed him off beyond words. If he was 'lucky' than what did that say about all the other nations who were supposedly so powerful that they couldn't dig themselves out of this mess without him?

He inhaled deeply, running his hand threw his hair as he pushed those thoughts away. Getting angry now would solve nothing, and if he could play his part, the other nations would have a real reason to be afraid of him. America was a superpower regardless of their opinions, and it was time they remembered this…

The conference door slowly opened, and America shifted in his seat, changing his posture.

Instead of another nation, a servant girl entered a pot of coffee (he could smell it from here) along with a breakfast place sitting upon it. She stopped directly in front of him, and placed the food and drink on the side table. "From Mr. Vilca." She said bowing.

Alfred smiled softly at her. "Please give him my thanks, as well as my gratitude." He said nodding towards her.

She blushed and stepped out quietly closing the door behind her.

He laughed to himself quietly knowing full well how that same situation would have ended up if Francis had been in the same situation as him—and the probable consequences. He took up his silverware and ate his bacon and eggs munching on his toast as he made a few adjustments to the PowerPoint. Some of the dates were off and so on, but a few minutes later he was done with both, finishing his breakfast and saving the project while he cleaned up his area. He placed the dirt dishes on the empty tray and dusted the crumbs off his outfit.

He moved up to the podium once more glancing through his notes making sure he was prepared.

He smiled to himself, for once feeling completely prepared.

At least until the door opened again, and England stepped in.

XXxxxxXX

Author's note: Hopefully this gives the readers a bit more of an insider's view of what Alfred is planning…still did he seem too Ooc …? I'm not too sure…

**Please Read and Review! **

It lets me know that Alfred has an audience when he finally springs his prank.


	3. Morning Meeting, Pt One

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

Light Editing:October 16,2013

**_XXxxxxXX_**

**_Chapter Two:_**

**_The Beginning, Part One_**

**_XXxxxxXX_**

Not for the first time, Arthur Kirkland arrived bright and early at the World Conference meeting building. It was five-fifteen and strangely enough the gate to the building was open—ready to receive the arriving nations. Sparing only a second to raise an eyebrow at the gate, Arthur went about his way, walking down the halls leading to the meeting room reviewing his topic for the World Conference.

The path was so familiar he needn't pay too much attention to his surroundings as he absentmindedly greeted a passing servant on his way to the large meeting hall.

He paused briefly in front of the meeting hall doors, pausing to turn the door knob before entering.

The sight before his eyes near made him think he was dreaming.

Before him, no more than ten feet was America standing at the podium.

It was five-forty-two a.m.

**XXxxxxXX**

Alfred nearly dropped his speech notes as he gazed directly into Arthur's eyes. He forced himself to glance down as nervousness slid into his belly knowing full well how critical this moment was. If he couldn't pull this charade off in front of Arthur—how could he possibly do the same in front of the other nations?

His brows furrowed as he loudly slammed his papers down.

He would not fail!

Especially after Barack had given his permission—his trust in Alfred. He straightens himself, standing tall as he leveled a hard look over at his former caretaker. Alfred F. Jones was many things but a coward wasn't one of them. Right now, he wasn't the gullible, stupid Alfred F. Jones; no,right now he was James G. Jones, serious and cut throat (false) southern personification of the United States of America. [1]

So, it was time he started acting that way.

He shifted his stance, watching as Arthur cautiously sat down at the conference table, unease and surprise coming off of him in waves as he surveyed his former-colony.

Alfred smiled coolly at him, seizing his chance for what it was. "Greetings, United Kingdom." He said pushing his glasses up, using the glare of the light to hide his eyes.

Arthur froze in his seat, a chill going down his spine as the words fell from Alfred's lips.

'United Kingdom…Not England, nor , not even Iggy.' Arthur thought gaping.'What the hell did I do to Alfred to cheese off him so bad he's calling me United Kingdom?[2]'

Arthur shifted in his seat looking depressed and very confused.

Alfred crossed the conference hall, now fully ignoring Arthur's presence as the clocked ticked loudly. Taking a seat off to the side of the room he took a manila folder out and started scanning through the pages, trying to theorize some options. From the agenda Hilary sent him, the main issues besides the economy, were global warming, possible expansion of the START treaty, as well as decreasing imports.

Topics that would most likely force him to stare down China, and Russia without blowing his top.

He took a sip from his coffee cup mulling over this problem.

He knew he'd need to be crafty, yet polite—be diplomatic, but sitting there looking over the pages was much harder than he thought with Arthur's eyes digging into him.

'Ignore him. Just ignore him. 'He thought to himself as he made a note on one of the pages.

He steeled himself, and spread out the pages a little on the table surface. According to the official documents, the American Dollar was being exchanged at a lower rate—meaning there was too much overseas buying.

He frowned thinking it over. Perhaps if a tariff was added to further protect American businesses…he crossed the idea out. If he did that he would have to notify all trading partners—and that would not go over well…unless…

He moved the pages to his left side, taking out a clean sheet of paper out from his briefcase.

If he added another tax on the W2 forms requiring all a listing of foreign purchases, and a percentage tax, he might be able to spin it to Congress, and possibly the House if he could emphasize how much domesticate companies could profit from the tax, if a greater number of American businesses used American made products—which could further be used as increase revenue to pay off his debt.

He smirked.

Maybe this serious business wasn't as hard as he thought.

If he did the situation this way, he wouldn't need to notify anyone (the W2 forms only directly affected his citizens), and he'd indirectly solve one of his most pressing problems. He moved the economic pages to the side using a paper clip to group them together as he moved on to the problem on his list.

Health Care Reform.

He moved back in his seat thinking, leaning his head on his hand completely ignoring Arthur's presence.

It was easier than he thought…

**XXxxxxXX**

An hour and two cups of coffee cups later Alfred was extremely pleased with himself. He smiled behind his hand as he reviewed his progress once more looking for faults, and possible draw back to his solutions. There were a few concerns over how'd he get the proper bills, and forms filled and passed but he worry about that later. For now a few more nations had arrived—the most notably being the sleepy appearance of Greece, and the loud conversation taking place between Spain and South Italy (apparently South Italy spent the night at Spain's house in an attempt to get away from his brother and Germany and was pissed that Spain nearly made them late).

Still, as more and more nations arrived Alfred could feel himself getting more and more nervous.

Neither Antonio nor Romano has said anything about his surprising early appearance, and England was still being depressed in his corner, but he knew sooner or later someone would say something—who he didn't know. But most likely either Russia or China would comment on it.

"Oh honhonhon if it isn't _mon petite Amérique_," A very familiar voice said leaning ever so close to America.

Alfred nearly groaned.

It was Francis.

"How unusual. I was_ très surpris_, to see you so early…" He said whispering erotically into Alfred's ear. His arm snaked around Alfred's shoulders making the younger of which frown deeply.

Stupid pervert.

He threw Francis arm off, and shifted in his chair, moving so he was looking straight in the other nation's eyes. His eyes narrowed, using a glare similar to one he'd seen on England's face often. "Keep your hands to yourself pervert." Alfred said leveling off with an evil smirk daring the other to try again.

Francis gulped.

"Perhaps another time, _mon petit Amérique_." He said running off looking extremely pale.

Alfred watched him go, drinking from his coffee cup, wondering idly if he should be happy or sad how easily he managed to scare Francis. It wasn't supposed to be so easy to scare the spit out of Francis after all—still he tried not to dwell on it as more nations entered.

Lithuania and Russia among them.

He nearly dropped his coffee cup in surprise.

Obviously Russia and Toris would be here—it was a freaking _World _Conference meeting, not the G8 he noted, reminding himself. He gently put his drink down (the last thing he needed was to drop his coffee in front of Russia). He got up from his seat walked quietly to the podium as little by little the gathered nations stared in pure astonishment at him undoubtedly surprised he wasn't yelling already about some heroic nonsense.

Apparently they never thought he could be quiet—his eyes narrowed pondering this…

Stupid jerks.

He sorted through his papers once more to give himself something to do as he separated them in to sections (during his brainstorming he'd mixed them up), then directly by year. Behind him the clock ticked loudly as a quarter to nine, nations were still showing up. Mattie entered quietly taking his place on his left side hugging Kumajirou blinking wildly when he noticed his twin up front.

Russia took his seat next to him, smiling creepily, appearing to be a bit confused.

While on the other side of the table the Baltics were shaking nervously when Russia spared them a glance ever so often—and now he was staring at him…shit.

He frowned at his ex-enemy, but nodded politely at him.

Russia's eyes widen for a second before his gaze refocused, staring at him unblinkingly.

Talk about pressure—

And then China took his seat, indirectly adding more pressure to Alfred as the time neared.

Correction—he was screwed unless he managed to pull this meeting to together. Ten minutes remained, and finally the last of the nations slid into their seats waiting patiently for America—_James_ to begin…and somehow the thought of him truly being himself for once didn't seem nearly as scary and nerve-wracking as it did a few hours ago…

A smirk appeared on his face as he booted up the projector (stupid thing had turned off after about twenty minutes), as he scanned the World Conference table looking for anyone not present. After about a minute, he nodded and enlarged the PowerPoint.

It was time to begin.

**XXxxxxXX**

Here's more as a special treat. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays! May Finland be able to deliver presents to everyone!

**XXxxxxXX**

The countries were absolutely shocked.

Never before had anyone seen America as focused or as serious as he was today. There at the podium glancing over his notes he was completely and utterly silent displaying a face of coolness…and dare they think it—maturity.

Mexico gulped in his seat as America glanced up looking passed them, obviously looking for empty seats yet his gaze was nothing compared to the strange smiles coming off of Russia. Calm and completely collected he turned and started up the finicky projecting, making the room blink in astonishment.

There upon the whiteboard was a friendly, yet business like PowerPoint upon it.

The words "World Conference 2010" easily visible as several jaws dropping open.

The normally loud meeting hall was struck dead silent as the nations sat mesmerized seemly unable to comprehended why America was acting this way. Even Greece who was usually napping at the table blinked sleepily at them, confused as to why no one was talking.

The silence lasted another second before the whispered started sweeping the room.

In two's and three's as wild predictions flew back and forth between nations becoming wilder and more ridiculous while Alfred messed with the computer keyboard. He lingered at minute or two longer then he should of listen absentmindedly to the various whispers wondering curiously what the other nations truly thought about this new development—

"…ohonhon…perhaps pure _petit Amérique_ has finally had sex…"

"…I don't know, aru. Maybe the recession…?"

"_Nein_, Italy. I doubt _Amerika_ is depressed because of an upset stomach."

" _Wakaranai_. Heracles_-san_. I am unsure what brought about this change in Ame—I mean Alfred-kun…"[3]

"…what do you think, Kumakichi?

"…who are you?"

"I'm Canada."

Alfred nearly laughed, before he caught himself smirking instead. He cleared his throat loudly (it was something his boss often did when he tended to go off on a tangent), waiting patiently for the other nations to quiet before he started.

It took a moment but silence did come, nodding before extending his pointer.

"Thank you for coming for the World Conference. Today's agenda includes several important topics." He clicked 'enter' and the screen switched to another slide. Every couple of seconds glancing down over his notes as he spoke ignoring the soft noises as almost all the nations present took notes, unable to say anything (Alfred leveled several cold glares once or twice at France daring him to speak, and interestingly enough the others seem to caught on).

In this way the conference continued on and on until finally forty-five minutes later he ended his speech, waiting tensely as the questions portion of the discussion was opened up.

"Go ahead Finland." Alfred said taking his seat.

"Where exactly did the rating information come from?"

"It was complied by Secretary of State Hilary Clinton with help from the corresponding agencies from across the world." He answered sipping his coffee. He separated his paperwork passing a copy of the document down the roll to the blond. He turned back to the table as a whole. "Any other questions?"

China raised his hand. "I do, aru."

"Go ahead." Alfred prompted him, already guessing the question. He tapped his pen on his desk, waiting impatiently for China.

Unknowingly though his posture was very intimidating, daring China to bring up his debt. Daring him to bring about the collapse of the world's economy because he wanted some extra cash, because if he started calling in debts, America could do the same—except he was owed a substantial amount of money by all the former allies,( most notably being England and France) who would and could make their outcries known to China.[4]

Hence the word's _World_ Economy being so disgustingly interconnected.

Who would have guessed?

"When are you going to pay your debt, aru?"

Alfred smiled, he was going to enjoy settling China straight.

**XXxxxxXX**

**1**: My theory is that during the Civil War there was indeed a Confederate America that Alfred is using for an acting model during his prank. (After the Civil War they reemerged becoming the Alfred F. Jones we all know).

**2**: I pretty much assume that country names are used between nations who aren't very close to each other while personal names are used between nations who are familiar with each other. The fact that Alfred is using UK instead of his usual nicknames for Arthur basically means he's denying any relationship between them. Of course he's not but for the sake of his prank, he using England's long name.

**3**: Wakaranai. Basically, 'I don't know.' But if the translations wrong please review, or pm me.

**4**: From WWII England and France still owe the United States loans that were never paid—go on Google it. At last count it was listed as around 820 billion dollars. So I if China really did try to recall our (USA) debt we could simply point out England and France, because interest has been piling up. Hell, even if the interest amount was 3 percent they'd still owe over 1,476,000,000 quadrillion dollars today—plenty of money to throw at China, and still have some over with. Sorry, I just get so upset whenever someone brings up the national debt like that makes America a sub-par country...talk about throwing stones...

**Author's Note**: Hopefully a bit longer (and better) than the first two chapters. Thank you for all the thoughtful reviews I received as well as all the wonderful critic I received. The next chapter will (hopefully) be out soon so look forward to it.

Please **Read** and **Review**! I'd loved to know what you think!


	4. Morning Meeting, Pt Two

Realizations

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

XXxxxxXX

_**Chapter Three:**_

_**The Beginning, Part Two**_

XXxxxxXX

The room went dead silent.

No one, not even France or England dared make a sound. In this atmosphere of tension, there was no place for them. If they did make a sound, it could very well disrupt everything. Many of the other nations were standing in place unable to look away. Some with their hands grasping papers and some cling to the comfort of others, such as Italy who was clinging to Germany.

If the diplomatic relationship between American and China fell through, the very livelihood of their countries would certainly be at risk. Members of the European Union though, were the most troubled, already on very shaky ground economically, this split involving China and America could the final straw.

Whatever America said next could mean the difference—

Alfred smiled coldly, sending a chill down their backs. It reminded a good number of them of Russia on his worst days, especially of the coldness during his time as the USSR.

America's voice cut through their thoughts.

"Are you _sure_ you want to know?" He asked, softly, curiously.

Canada inhaled nervously.

He hoped dearly, that China wouldn't push the issue. Something was seriously wrong with his brother, something big. If things continued the way they were…the whole world could suffer!

Canada fidgeted, feeling a drop of sweat trail down his cheek. He hated this feeling, knowing he was at the mercy of someone else.

And he wasn't the only one; all the other nations knew what this conversation could mean for them—for their people. If China dared cross the line, many of their people would fall into poverty. America, couldn't afford to help any of them if he was busy paying off a debt.

Even China with a flourishing economy, needed America to survive, they all did—

"Obviously, aru." China said instantly. His clothes were a bit wrinkled around his wrist as if he'd been holding them, and his usual neat hair was fizzed, yet still he kept pushing and pushing the issue that America had to pay back his debt, _now_. It was a clear sign to the other personifications.

China could not be trusted. Not for itself, not for anyone.

Immediately, any respect any of the others had for China dropped.

America shifted in his chair, a cool glance at China.

"Alright," He said crossing his hands in front of his face. A strange look passed through his eyes, flickering before it vanished. "I will answer...but first a question. What's more important—the debt or trade?"

China floundered for a second, weighting the odds, but he answered. "The debt, aru."

"I thought you'd say that." Alfred shifted some papers, and wrote a long paragraph down, looking completely at ease within the tension.

"Here." He said passing the page over to China, leaning back into his chair, waiting for China to finish reading it over.

A minute later, China's loud scream tore through the hanging silent.

"This is unacceptable! You cannot do this, aru!"

Alfred smirked. "Really? Because unless I'm mistaken I _just_ did." He said completely serious. It sent a chill down the other nation's backs. America should never be anything like Russia.

"But this—"

"On the date of March, the eighth, the United States Government will start paying back, the People's Republic of China as stated, the one point nine trillion—"Alfred recited staring up at the ceiling.

"After that!" China hissed.

Alfred glared at him, a cold cruel glare silencing him. "As I was saying…'during and for the foreseeable future, the United States Government will not be continuing current trade stranded. A decrease of thirty to sixty percent is likely to be the new standard until further notice'…could that be what you're talking about?"

"Of course, Měiguó! This not—" [1]

"Not what? Acceptable?" Alfred cut in, skillfully ignoring China's glare.

It was much like the loud rants of England, only with quiet undertones Alfred could easily disregard. After all, ignoring the atmosphere was something he excelled at…

"Didn't you just say that the debt was more important than trade?"

"Yes, but—"

"Either it is or it isn't. Decide, but keep in mind one thing Zhōngguó, I do not back down. You can choose to accept the document in your hands or discount it—I don't care. But keep in mind something—my government is looking for reasons to decrease imports and your constant annoyance against my people, my debt is something I take very seriously, understand?" [2]

China didn't answer eyes downcast, scanning over the document. Obviously he was looking for loopholes, and towards the end of the page, nearly the bottom, he found just that—a signature in smooth flowing ink.

_James G. Jones._

A smile crept onto his face.

"This document is invalid, aru." He said pointing to the authorization.

The other nations leaned closer some from the opposite side of the table as they read it. Not Alfred F Jones, but James G. Jones, this form was invalid, only personifications could legally validate a new trade agreement between nations.

And yet, if that wasn't Alfred sitting across the table, who was this? Who was James G. Jones? And why did he so closely resemble America? As far as they knew Alfred had no biological family. [3]

Alfred took a sip of his coffee. "Why because Alfred didn't sign it?"

"Of course, aru."

"Then you're gravely mistaken. As the personification of the Southern United States, I carry the same authorization as my northern half." Alfred said casually shuffling his paperwork.

Immediately the room exploded into noise.

XXxxxxXX

[1] Měiguó: United States of America in Mandarin Chinese.

[2] Zhōngguó: China

[3] Sorry Canada, the rest of the world can't remember who you are.

Author's Note: Incredibly short, and I hate it. Planning to update the rest probably before Friday. (It's Spring Break!) Remember—

Please **Read** and **Review**

Alfred needs support!


	5. Morning Meeting, Pt Three

Realizations

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), my terrible grammar and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

_**XXxxxxXX**_

_**Chapter Four:**_

_**The Beginning, Part Three**_

_**XXxxxxXX**_

"Who the bloody hell—"

"Then who is that, _ve~_"

"Big brother is that not Mr. America?"

"I'm not sure, Lilli."

"Explain who you are, _da_?"

Alfred smiled, content to let the countries burn themselves out while he fixed his paperwork. Leaning back in his chair he tapped the table, head resting on his right arm casually. He appearance completely at ease while the other nations yelled (or in Canada's case whispered) themselves out fanatically, and somewhat dramatically trying to unravel who he was.

It was funny in a sense—until he caught the strange look in Toris' eyes.

'He can totally see right through me.' Alfred thought nodding his head ever so slightly, watching as his long time friend blinked, and smiled back softly.

He should have known better. Toris knew him too well to be deceived by an attitude change, and a new outfit—

"Well?" A stern and familiar voice said interrupting his thoughts, and invading his personal space.

It was Arthur, huge eyebrows in a familiar 'v' looking very upset.

"Well, what?"

"Explain yourself, child. Where is Alfred? And why are you here, _Jones_?" Arthur pressed, arms crossed. If it had been during the days of pirates, Alfred was positive he'd be walking the plank right now.

"I don't have to say anything—because frankly it's none of your business United Kingdom…or did you forget the revolution?" Arthur went red stuttering in anger. Still, Alfred felt guilty bring that up. As bitter as the old man was about the recent financial crisis, nothing quite set him off like the revolution...

Arthur growled cursing feverishly as he moved forward, immediately Matthew stepped forward blocking Arthur from strangling Alfred, and took over.

"Please, tell me." Matthew pleaded. "Where is my brother?"

Alfred relented a little, unable to take the begging look his brother was sending him.

He sighed, and thinking fast, and saying the first thing to come to his mind. "He ran off with Tony." He said, a little nervous. He never actually thought to make up an excuse for himself…hopefully they believed it…

Russia scoffed.

Or not.

Down the table, the Russian smiled creepily. "I think you are lying, _da_? Comrade Amerika is not that stupid—"

Alfred gritted his teeth, head snapping up. "Or maybe he didn't feel like being insulted. After all, that's all you nation do right, blame your problems on America, and go home feeling like you've accomplished something while ignoring all the problems you created."

Outrage sprang up.

"How dare you!"

"Belt up you rude git!"

Alfred ignored them, stuffing his papers neatly into his suit case, and standing up. He pushed his seat in, and made his way to the door, pausing just before the threshold. He turned back to them, an evil smirk on his face.

"Every nation played a part in creating this recession, some more than others but throwing stones? I didn't think you were that hypocritical. Seems like I overestimated you all…until tomorrow, nations." He said walking off leaving silence in his wake and unease in the room.

They didn't know what to do.

XXXXXX

Alfred leaned against the wall outside, signing exasperatedly. He couldn't believe how fast the situation deteriorated. Compared with his usual meetings, which involved conscious use of blow horns, loud yelling and paperwork flying everywhere, this was nothing like he imagined. Sure, he actually managed to accomplish something for once, but deep down the satisfaction of getting one over on the others was a little hollow.

He shouldn't brought up the revolution, no matter how unprepared he was. Arthur didn't deserve that—

'_This whole mess is your fault!'_

'_If you had just been responsible none of this would have happened!'[1]_

Them again maybe Arthur did deserve it. Maybe a little.

Family or not Arthur himself wasn't faultless, wasn't kind like the past, and many things had passed through his lips that _burned_. That hurt him, keeping him awake at night sometimes wondering if there was anything to salvage. Anything to heal.

Alfred smiled coldly. He took off his glasses, and cleaned them with his shirt. Wondering idly, if he was deluding himself this whole time or there was actually something between Arthur's words he wasn't hearing.

Kind of like Matt.

His cruel brother… [2]

"Mr. America?" A voice asked.

Alfred glanced up, a brown-greenish blur about a foot in front of him, yet he didn't need his glassed to know it was. Only one person ever bothered to call him that. He replaced his glasses back on his face, smiling gently at his friend.

"Hey."

"Is this a bad time?" Lithuania says, and Alfred wonders if Toris was watching him during his internal monologue, or he could just sense something was amiss about him… Then again, showing up at the World Conference acting like someone else would have made anyone suspicious.

Alfred shakes his head. "No, and call me Alfred…well, James. You don't need to be formal with me, you know." He says hinting at other things. He didn't need to say them out loud. Their friendship spoke for them.

Toris was perceptive, always been able to see through him.

"Are you all right?" Toris asks, hugging his papers to his chest, almost like a security blanket. Though if it's in nervousness, or worry Alfred isn't sure, but he just hopes it's not because Toris is afraid of him. The Baltic has enough to worry about without him adding to his problems.

"Yeah—" He starts but seeing the 'Look' in Lithuania's eyes stops him. "No…I'm just tired." He relents.

Toris frowns. "Because of everything?"

Alfred nods, but doesn't elaborate.

"I see…then would you like to join me for lunch?" Toris says quickly, softly.

Alfred's smile returns.

"Sure."

XXXXXX

[1] Ladies and Gentleman, the housing market, nor America is _**not**_ the sole clause for the 2008 Recession. If we were the sole cause, Europe won't be panicking right now, if there weren't already some holes in the EU finances. Yes, we did add to it, but America is quickly getting back on its feet. Yay America!

[2] In canon, Matthew spends five hours just listing everything he hates about America. Seriously, he was so hard on Alfred he made him cry. Kind of cruel if you ask me.

**Side note**: No this is _**not**_ a USxLithuania Romance, they are just good friends! Both in Hetalia and in real life. Lithuania was one of the few countries who fully support and still support the War on Terrorism and America in general.

**Author's Notes**: Incredibly short, and I hate it but I rather post something for the readers rather than nothing. I'm so sorry for being a terrible writer and keeping everyone hanging, school is really taking up more time than it should.

So, please…

**Read** and **Review**!

Alfred needs to eat!


	6. Morning Meeting, Pt Four

**Realizations**

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Tired of being put down by the rest of the nations, America decides enough is enough. The world needs a reality check. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), my terrible grammar and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

_**XXxxxxXX**_

_**Chapter Four:**_

_**The Beginning, Part Four**_

_**XXxxxxXX**_

"Any idea what you'd like for lunch?" Alfred asked casually. He was calmer now, and feeling much lighter then he'd been a while ago, and for that he happy. Something that was rare nowadays.

Toris smiled softly, thinking over the question lightly, feeling a little surprised. He hadn't expected the choices for lunch. Somehow, he just thought they were going to McDonald's or something considering the American's infamous food choices.

So then, why was what he being given a choice?

It didn't make sense.

Was Alfred just being kind?

Not that —Alfred wasn't kind. He was, but he was also a little oblivious to the atmosphere…and that sometimes (a lot of times) that got him in trouble….

But he was grateful for given a choice—really he was and—

"Toris, you're doing it again." Alfred said breaking through Toris' thoughts.

The Baltic nation blinked. A red blush spreading across cheeks, as he realized he'd spaced off. It really was a bad habit of his.

"My apologizes Mr. Ameri—"

"_James_." Alfred pressed, but there was no real bite behind his words. "And stop apologizing, seriously, its okay. I'm not mad. _Really_." He said brushing his fingers through his hair.

They were outside now and both the nations missed the sighing of some of the onlookers, as they gazed longing at the two handsome men, but in particular it was the stunning display of suaveness that had the hearts appearing in the eyes of the bystanders.

"Anyway, was there you wanted to eat? Washington has a bit of everything…most of which is _not_ fast food, contrary to what Arthur says." Alfred said, his tone changing half way through to something harsher. Just the thought of his surrogate brother was enough to make upset… [1]

"Maybe something new?" Toris said not really able to think of anything off the top of his head. Most of the things the other nations were famous for getting a little old. After all there was only so many times, someone could eat pasta, fine dining, and Chinese food before it got old. [2]

"Something new, huh?" A smile crept up Alfred face as he thought. "I think I know a place."

Toris looked at him. "You do? Where?"

Alfred smiled in return. "It's a secret."

XXxxxxXX

**World Conference Room**

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Arthur asked voicing the thought on everyone's mind.

The general uproar after that stupid wanker—_James G. Jones_ left was far louder than any other meeting the other nations had ever been to, and the fact that, _that child_ insulted them was inconceivable. Who did he think he was? Some saint? He had no right to question them! How dare he—

"You know he's right though…" A quiet voice said.

Silence.

"Who said that?" Arthur said loudly. He didn't see anyone, and he was so sure he left his mythical friends outside, too…

Mathew sighed.

Why couldn't anyone remember him? Honesty, he was important to the world economy, and had some really important inventions, really he did. He gripped his polar bear tighter, and using one hand tapped Arthur on the shoulder. "I'm right here."

Arthur blinked. "Alfred? When'd did you get back? I thought that bloody fool James said you'd run off with that alien—"

"That's not _Amérique_, _Angleterre_." Francis said interrupting him before got started. "This is Canada."

It took a minute for Arthur to recognize who that was.

"Oh, my apologizes Mathew… but enough of that why did you said that—?"

"Why did I say that James was right? Because in a way he was. I mean, Alfred had a big problem with his economy and job creation, but right now that is not the issue. At least not the most pressing one. The European Union is. So, maybe you might want to lay off of him a little—"

"Or a lot if you ask me." Another voice popped up.

It was Logan. [3]

"You all seem to be happy taking heaps out of Alfred, and it's annoying. Keep whinging like that and anyone want to leave." He said tapping Arthur on the shoulder and making his way out and dialing a number.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his head, for once feeling his age. All his former colonies were too damn complex to understand sometimes…and somehow, watching the events transpire as they did he had a feeling the chaos was only getting started. He glanced down at his phone checking the time.

He needed to eat some lunch if he was going to deal with this nonsense…

Arthur was so caught up in himself that he didn't notice Feliks' question.

"So like, has anyone seen Liet?"

XXxxxxXX

"So...um, maybe a lemonade?" Toris asked shifting through the rather extensive menu with its array of choices, and drink options. Not for the first time, Lithuania found himself rather confused about his friend as watched the surroundings of the restaurant.

From the moment he and Alfred walked in things had been different. Still expecting some sort of fast food restaurant, and feeling incredibly guilty about it he followed Alfred through the twists and turns between streets as he was led in to a cozy medium sized restaurant about five minutes from the World Conference Center. Entering the causal restaurant a nice waitress led them to a booth near one of the windows on the left side of the room. Live greenery and tasteful decorations adorned the walls, and both he and Alfred were handed a menu and asked for their drink choices—something Toris still didn't know.

The waitress nodded and turned to Alfred. "And you sir?"

"Lemonade, por favor." Alfred said absently flipping through his menu. There some new additions to the menu he couldn't remember seeing before, and some varieties of drinks he couldn't wait to try. "And for my friend a cup of rose tea."

The waitress smiled and replaced her notepad back within her apron. "Estaré de vuelta con su bebida en un segundo." [4]

Alfred nodded. "Thank you." He replied still shifting through the menu. He could feel a familiar set of green eyes digging into him.

"Something wrong?"

Toris stuttered. "N-not nothing's wrong—"

Alfred sighed. "_Liar,_" Toris tensed, afraid he'd insulted him. "You know I wouldn't get mad no matter what question you ask. I can't because…" _we're friends, best friends._

"I'm sorry, Mr. America…I just was not aware you knew other languages, and I was…"

"Stop. I get it. It's fine."Alfred held his hand up.

Instantly Toris was silent, eyes downcast like he still expected Alfred's rage, a reaction to his rudeness. And yet, a quick glance upwards made his eyes widen in shook. Instead of anger, Alfred looked dejected. Guilt pooled within Toris wondering if he was ever going to speak within hurting his friend. He didn't have long to ponder this though as the same waitress from before returned with their drinks.

"Now, what would you like?" She asked apparently unaware of the cloud of depression that had settle over the table while she'd been gone. Her pen was hovering over the notepad waiting patiently.

Alfred was the first to speak. "The family meal, with a side order of steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and sour cream." He said taking Toris' menu, and his own and handing it over to the waitress completely ignoring the wide eyed look from his companion. First things first, order food and then…deal with this mess.

"Okay, I'll bring it out in a bit." She said smiling brightly, and walking away.

Alfred waited until she was completely gone from his line of sight before he turned his full attention back to his friend.

"Toris."

Toris jumped, surprised to addressed so suddenly. "Yes?"

"I don't hate you, or the other nations. I never have, and I mostly likely never will. It's not in me to hate….not yet. I've hated the actions but not the people. And even so, I don't know what to do when I mess up. I can apologize and tell you how sorry I am but nothing changes—it never does. Nothing I do seems to work…and…I'm sorry that you think I'm someone you need to be afraid of—"

"You're not!" Toris said, but he wasn't the only voice.

Standing on either side of him were two other people. Two very unexpected people who Alfred never really thought liked him, or his people.

"South Italy and Estonia?" Alfred whispered almost reverently. "Why are you here—?"

Romano scuffed. "Why won't I be in restaurant at lunch, south bastard?" He said stealing Alfred's glass of lemonade and chugging it down before slamming it down. There was visible layer of sweat on his brow, and he appeared to be winded as if he'd been running. "Disgusting, and I bet most of that was filled with sugary crap…but that's not the point. What the hell were you talking about?"

Eduard nodded too, both of the arrivals seating themselves. Neither took their eyes off of Alfred.

"I too would like to know, Mr. Jones—"

"James is fine."

"Alright. Whatever. Answer the damn question South bastard—"

James smirked unable to help it. "You know that could go for you too."

Romano cursed in Italian and threw a spoon at him. James laughed and dodged the utensil letting it hit harmlessly against the wall behind him.

"Alright I'll answer…Alfred, and I," He paused for a second thinking how strange it was to talk about himself. "—were always under the impression that no one likes us. Insults, newspapers, it adds up after awhile and…" He whispered something under his breath that Eduard, the person sitting closest to him barely caught. "…holidays…"

But the Baltic could be sure.

He let it go for now.

"And what…?" Romano demanded.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

None of his dining companions looked convinced, but they grudging dropped the conversation.

XXxxxxXX

**Australian Slang Terms** (had to ask my friend so I'm not sure if they're correct)

Heaps: lots of something. Universally used for anything.

Whinge: complaining unnecessarily.

[1] Contrary to popular belief the United States does have other places to eat other than fast food restaurants, honesty. I was talking to a pen pal from Pakistan and one of the first questions I was asked was if all American's eat at McDonald's and ONLY at McDonald's. Suffice to say, I was a little peeved. Can anyone else say, stereotype?

[2] I think that whenever the nations have meetings in other counties, the host nation often tries to introduce them to some native food .i.e pasta from Italy, and what not, and over time the native food has gotten old. (They've been alive for decades, for crying out loud.) Yet, another thing I think the other nations often do (in my opinion) is that whenever they come to the USA is to bring their own lunch, or have specialized food made for themselves because they think Alfred will simply feed them McDonald's. He wouldn't but no one thinks about any of the food American specializes in. Like Cajon food, barbeque, crossovers, and the ability to turn any type of food into sandwiches and macaroni.

[3] Logan is the fandom name for Australia.

[4] Estaré de vuelta con su bebida en un segundo: I will be back with your drinks in a second. But I'm not sure, my Spanish is terrible.

[5]Eduard is the human name for Estonia.

**Author's Note**: Took the longest freaking' time because of an accident. I fell down the stairs, and broke both my laptop and my waist, and then got grounded (mom caught me trying to type)….I blame the cat. Feel free to point out mistakes, I'm positive I didn't catch them all, and my betas are really busy.

_If there are any questions, comments, or concerns… __**Please Review**__…heck, review anyway._

Alfred and Tony need some excitement in their lives.


	7. Morning Meeting, Part Five

Realizations

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Summary: In which a mad Italian, a Lithuanian, an Estonian and an American sit in a restaurant and converse with a few added surprises. Reasons also why Francis has a police record, and Antonio reveals a special talent. Gilbert is both surprised and not to discover this. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

**_XXxxxxXX_**

**_Morning Meeting_**

**_Part Five_**

**_XXxxxxXX_**

"This is a lot different then I imagined." Estonia said, enjoying his meal. Part of him couldn't help but be surprised considering he expected to find his brother and friend in a fast food restaurant, eating food destined for clogging arteries instead of the delicious entrée in front of him.

"I agree, Mr. America, er… Mr. Southern America." Toris said his hands fidgeting some inches away from his plate. He turned red when he noticed Alfred's stare, shifting into the dinner etiquette of the Europeans, that demanded both hands on the table, and silverware visible at all times. [1] His fingers were shaking a bit as his nervousness hit new levels.

Alfred shook those thoughts off and smiled. "Thanks…" He said immensely proud. "Though you might want to be careful calling me that in front of Cuba."

"What?" Toris blinked.

"Calling me South America. The Spanish speaking countries usually have this big peeve about Americans being from the continents instead of the United States…" He said sliding his utensils to the side of his plate, watching curiously as all three of his fellow nations copied his actions. "Anyway, haven't we've been over this—call me James." [2]

Toris colored embarrassed. "Of course, Mr. James."

Alfred sighed, but let it go. At this point, that probably was the best he was going to get. Toris had never been good at dropping the titles from his name even when they lived together in the past.

Lovino rolled his eyes, glaring daggers at the two of them for the public display of mushiness he was forced to endure. He used the break in the conversation to ask (demand) what had been bothering him for the whole damn meal. Specifically that little comment about holidays.

"What the fuck did you mean about holidays?" He hissed quietly, but there was no real malice behind his words.

Lovino crossed his arms defensively as if he was the one being demanded answers from, but uneasiness was in his posture. The curl on top of his head forming a line as Lovino became more and more frustrated, and agitated. Underneath the usual spitfire and curses there was an underlining feeling of nervousness, and apprehension.

_Did he really want to know?_

It was hard to say, but there was so much pain in that one word earlier that the Italian couldn't help himself. It was so fucking irritating to hear it from James, and not Alfred himself. It almost made him want to gag. Alfred had always been too honest to keep secrets, had always been so clueless about people, so the fact there was something hiding that he didn't know pissed Lovino off.

If he couldn't guess that something was even there, causing pain to his friend _what else didn't he know?_

_How could he even call himself a friend?_

Lovino growled completely irritated with himself and the fucking world in general. The last thing the nations needed was to screw over the only superpower and in the middle of the mess they were in—

And why the hell was that fucking south bastard still not answering him?

A vein popped on Lovino's head.

If there were three things Lovino hated most it was terrible food, Feliciano with that damn potato bastard and people not listening to him.

"Well?" The Italian pressed impatiently, his hands slamming on the table, shaking the silverware.

Alfred turned to him in confusion. In the midst of the nosy restaurant setting with dozens of casual conversations taking place, and the clanking of dishware, Alfred hadn't heard any of what Lovino said (not that he really tried considering most of Lovino's words were a strange mixture of Italian, Spanish and English that focused solely on half-heartedly insulting Alfred's culture and food).

So naturally the American was confused.

"Did you say something?"

"Obviously, I did south bastard or I wouldn't be asking!"

Alfred ignored the first part of the sentence, really not feeling like having a pissed off—well, more pissed Italian yelling at him. Instead, he asked. "Can you repeat it?"

Lovino growled. "I said I wanted to know what the fuck you meant when you said holidays!" He yelled, causing some of the occupants of the nearby tables to glance in their direction, before turning away. Being loud in America wasn't really all that unusual, but the accent coding the English was. Even in the capital, foreigners were rare.

Lovino went red and stumped down back into his seat, eyes burning both with embarrassment and determination. He wasn't going to let the topic die and Alfred knew it. Pushing the biting embarrassment down, Lovino leveled a hard look at Alfred.

But still…

Alfred glanced down, his hands resting into his lap. He didn't know what to say.

"I'm still waiting dammit!"

And apparently patience wasn't one of Lovino's strong points. Though that should have been obvious, the Italian complained more than Arthur whined.

"_Well_?"

Alfred sighed. "I'm trying to put words to the problem. Give me a second."

Lovino growled, but did as Alfred said and waited. Impatiently.

"Usually during the holidays, like Christmas, and New Years, you spend time with your family, right?"

Lovino gave him a look. One of his patented, _I-can't-believe-you-asked-such-a-fucking-obvious-q uestion_ looks, but nodded anyway. Not daring to voice anything else, lest his annoying companion go off on a tangent Lovino stayed silent. Alfred was a master of those off topic, completely random subject changes, and Lovino didn't want to know, or find out if James was the same. There were more important things to discuss right now then whether James was really as stupid and tactless as Alfred.

"Then…if no one shows up, if no one makes an effort, does that mean I don't have a family?"

Lovino gaped at him, comprehension stuttering to a halt. He didn't know what to say… And judging from the wide expressions from the other two dinner companions, Lovino was willing to bet they weren't faring any better.

XXxxxxXX

Francis was an avid fan of love, really he was but there was a limit to the amount of stupidity he could handle in one thirty minute slot. (Arthur and Alfred notwithstanding that was unresolved sexual tension in its finest.)[3]

Take now for example.

"Lovino, where are you?!" Antonio yelled scaring some poor bystanders. The blinking walkers gave Francis and Gilbert pitying looks before walking off, a slight smile light up their faces. Apparently getting lost in American cities was a common problem for foreigners…

Francis sighed, using a nearby shop window to check his appearance as he continued to hear Antonio's attempts to find his lost 'friend'. The Frenchman smirked at the thought, obviously the two nations were anything but friends, but Antonio ignored his latest efforts to match the two up, and if the current situation was any indication, a relationship was not going to happen anytime soon—

"Boss is looking for you. _Mi tomate_! Please answer me! Boss is worried!" Francis cringed at the yell. It went on and on and on and frankly, if something wasn't done soon, the police might hall them in for public disturbance (again).

Francis groaned rubbing his forehead delicately.

The first meeting of the Bad Touch Trio in six months, and Antonio was stuck on his boy toy.

A glint of beauty caught his attention, a lustful smile creeping up his face. Beside him, Gilbert rolled his eyes already catching where Francis attention was heading.

Francis smirked. Perhaps today wouldn't be such a waste.

He ran off, leaving Gilbert to hold off Antonio's attempts to climb a couple crates to find the older Italian. It was a hard chore surprising, but Gilbert and his overwhelming amount of awesomeness was more than ready to take the challenge on. Former empire or not Gilbert was born for fighting and—

Gilbert blinked as his friend froze in his climbing attempts almost as if someone pushed a pause button.

He blinked._ What the hell?_

A strange realization lit the Spaniard's eyes, a burning determination as he jumped over from wooden boxes, and spun into a direction focusing in on something only he could see. Gilbert watched a little warily, never having seen this odd behavior of his friend before and stood off on the side watching as Antonio marched off, a wobble of Spanish and Italian falling from his lips most of which the Prussian couldn't translate. [4]

But one word did catch his attention, and his exasperation.

_Lovino._

That idiot Spain had somehow located Lovino.

Gilbert cursed.

Why couldn't they just go to a bar?

XXxxxxXX

Thirteen point five minutes later, Lovino still didn't have an answer for James' question, but a new feeling was beginning to take over. Anger. Lots of it. If James was even a hundredth of a percent correct, then several people had a lot to answer for.

In particular, the people who were the Jones' closet friends and that fucking terrible cook Kirkland were only the tip of the iceberg. What about that pervert Francis, or that quiet person Honda, or that person…Camoda or whatever? Where the hell were they? Weren't they suppose to be the closest allies, and family the United States had? Weren't they supposed to care about each other outside of national duties? Where the fuck where they during the holidays?

Hell, didn't the British bastard, and the womanizer have longer holidays than their North American counterparts [5] during the year, what were they doing? Having a fucking tea party?

Lovino glared. Unable to figure out any logical excuse why Alfred would be alone for the holidays—

He blinked as something occurred to him.

"Hey, South Bastard, why aren't you there with _Alfredo_? [6]" Lovino demanded.

James fidgets, an excuse barely coming to the front of his mind as he pretends to sip his lemonade (which at some point had been refilled, but he hadn't been paying attention). He pushed aside his plate, leaving the silverware on the three o'clock position for the waitress to take as he ran a hand through his hair feeling bittersweet. If only the real James G. Jones was still around, this wouldn't be so much of a problem…

He answers with a pensive looking on his face. "Even during the holidays someone is required to maintain the government, and I'm usually the one stationed in the White House for those times…I do get Alfred presents, and call him…" He says trailing off thinking of those times when he had to buy himself something just so he could pretend that someone cared about him, when he wrapped it and left the 'from' blank. "But it's not the same. I am part of the United States, so anything from me simply means that Alfred doesn't hate himself, it doesn't saying anything about his family." Bitterness there and regret. Spending holidays being on call was not festive.

Eduard frowned but didn't say anything as Toris seem to struggle with saying something. Both seemed to be forgotten for the most part in the conversations as they bit back hollow words. They too, came to the same conclusion as Lovino, and had no excuses for the other nations—didn't even want to try and make any.

Family was important in their cultures.

"Mr. Jones…" Toris whispered hastily coping James' earlier etiquette and placing his utensils on his plate. Suddenly he didn't feel too hungry. "If this was bothering you and Mr. Alfred so much…th-then why didn't you say anything before?"

_Why didn't you tell us?_ He seems to say but it's there underlining the sentence anyway. Asking why no one was told before now, and James' sad blue eyes stare at them in unease, and fear…?

Then he answers and everything's shot to hell.

"I didn't want to bother you." He said, and in that one moment there's no doubt in any of their minds how completely similar James is to his northern brother, contrary to his outward attitude. He and Alfred were certainty the same type of stupid idiot, and wouldn't ask for anything from anyone if he, no, they could avoid it. They didn't want to burden with anyone with their presence; because they didn't think they were welcome.

Lovino resisted the urge to sick the Italian mafia on the idiots.

Nations _needed_ physical interaction with someone to ground them. Without this vital support dangerous things happened… least of all a failing government if someone went off the deep end with a nation's powers. Humans weren't good enough, many of whom placed their nation parents on pedestals taller than Mt. Everest, most of whom only interacting with nations about business rather than any sort of comfort. To humans, nations were just talking pieces of property. Not living breathing people who need comfort.

"Who the _maschile _told you that?" Lovino hissed, though the answer should have been obvious.

The world told Alfred that.

Lovino cursed in Italian, then in English.

Just peachy. They had a depressed superpower who thought the world hated him only inches away from insanity, and nobody noticed? Boy, did they feel stupid. What else could go wrong—?

"LOVIIINNNOOOO!"

The restaurant door slammed open, and standing on the patio was Antonio out of breath. His hair standing up in all directions, and an exasperated older nation and his bird behind him. The noise level in the restaurant decreasing as yet another foreigner made an appearance.

Lovino glared.

He just had to _think_ that accursed line didn't he?

XXxxxxXX

_Maschile: _Italian: Means 'Hell' (I think. The dictionary is kind of iffy.)

_Mi tomate_: Spanish: Means 'My tomato'

[1] European dinner etiquette from what I could find consists of keeping both hands on the table, and having a conversation while silver is still in hand, while American dinner etiquette is to keep one hand in your lap (unless you're using knife to cut steak or something), and placing down the silverware when you're engaging in a conversation, unless you are very close to whoever you're having dinner with then you can continuing talking with silverware in hand(further dinner etiquette theory is explored in 'Secrets From America' Chapter 15). Anyhow, the other nations are not too familiar with American Etiquette hence the copying of Alfred's.

[2] Something I found out when I was learning Spanish. Many residents of South America, Central America and Canadians strongly disapprove of citizens of the United States (or anyone else) using the word 'American' to describe where they came from. I don't really care, but it's a little annoying to hear this preached to me, when neither I nor my ancestors came up with the name. Plus, if Americans can't be called that what would you name us? (Statesians is an insulting word, and Unitedians sounds like crap, so there are not really any good options.)

[3] Francis believes Arthur and Alfred are a match made in heaven, regardless of how often Alfred tells him that they are _not_. That's his opinion, not the moving force of this fanfic, take that however you want. As for me, **there are no intended pairings for this fanfiction**.

[4] I think every nation has at least one special area they excel in…even if some of these talents are a…little strange. Antonio's special talent #1—Lovino locator. Read and Weep South Italy, you probably won't get a break from Boss Spain ever (unless of course the two of you fight, but even that separation is temporary…).

[5] On average, and pretty much most of the time, Europeans have more vacation time overall, but in the United States, Christmas holidays, and Easter are longer than Europe's. Make sense? I hope so.

[6] An Italian twist on Alfred's name. Lovino uses it sometimes, but mostly Feliciano's the one who uses this. I think it's catchy, but I have to admit I think of the sauce more than I think of the Alfred F. Jones we all know and love…

Author's Note: This chapter took less time to type then I thought, but editing it was hell. I still don't think I caught all the mistakes, and frankly Lovino's whole inner/narrative cursing seems excessive to me, but I guess it'll have to do. I figured in this chapter I'd expand a bit on Alfred's and Lovino's friendship since Toris had some time in the sun. But I still wanted Eduard to say something more… it makes me want to cry at how really small his dialogue is… On a side note, for anyone else reading my other fanfics did anyone notice that Francis yet again stole the show? Didn't plan it that way but it happened.

Anyhow, Please **Read** and **Review**, so I know I haven't royally messed up this fanfic yet…


	8. Past Noon and Already Tired Pt 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Past Noon and Already Tired Parts 1 and 2 Summary**:_ In which Alfred understands Antonio somewhat, Lovino contemplates, Toris is taken by surprise by American quickness, Eduard is forgotten, and Gilbert does something equally smart, and just as dumb and North Italy makes a big mistake._ The meeting continues, and a talk with a certain neighbor, an English Inquisition, and observations by both Elizabeta and Kiku. Yao wonders over the past. Mathew tries to contact his brother, and Tony tunes in. Usage of both human and country names

Warnings: Absolute confusion, humor, cursing, sexual innuendos (maybe not definite), and slightly darker themes—you have been warned.

**_XXxxxxXX_**

**_Past Noon and Already Tired_**

**_Part One_**

**_XXxxxxXX_**

Antonio Fernandez Carrideo was the type of person Alfred could well and truly understand. He was the type of person who could and would whole heartedly put his heart into something no matter how much trouble it caused him. Like fawning over his favorite companion Romano (who refused to be addressed by the name but give in because the stupid tomato bastard obviously couldn't remember his real name...) which more often than not led to bruises and flying paper projectiles.

Lovino, however couldn't say the same.

He didn't understand Antonio.

_At all._

In fact, Lovino couldn't count the number of days he spent trying to unravel the mystery that was the Kingdom of Spain [1]

The moron made no sense, and to top it all off, the tomato bastard had the utter gall to interrupt such an important meeting nearly had the Italian spitting nails (not that he wasn't already cursing worse than a sailor). The tomato bastard had quickly and efficiently done the one thing not need in this situation. He brought the potato bastard's brother (and himself) into the restaurant. (Though Lovino refuses to even _think about_ how witless his...companion[2] was compared to the family of potato bastards. Or the stupidity Antonio himself inspires.) Lovino stubbornly keeps his eyes on the south bastard-

Who at present, is watching the chaos with a strange glint in his eyes, that just makes Lovino want to find the nearest phone and curse out those_ maledetti cretini_, because there's fucking way, no one could have missed that _look _or that_ damn expression._

Then it vanishes hidden beneath the pile of crap Lovino knows neither of the North American brothers [3] will admit to and that Camadian[4] person (what ever the hell his name is) won't know about because apparently no one thinks _Alfredo_ would have problems like ordinary nations. That somehow he's different and too happy-go-lucky that the pain just washes off of him. But he's not.

He's a nation too, he's not anything more, and the fact he's not able to be something everyone expects him to be, _burns_ him.

Horribly and dark.

Lovino curses loudly (that he knows of), this time pushing off his unwanted clinger, and jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. (The noise of which is largely toned out by Antonio's praises, most of which are tomato related, and in no way shape or form to do _not_ make Lovino as red as a damn tomato.)

"Finish the damn conversation, south-bastard." He hisses.

And Alfred opens his mouth to retort when the look in Toris' and Antonio's eyes catch him off guard.

He finds himself foundering slightly in the tense atmosphere that had risen again in the quiet of the restaurant. He didn't really want to answer. Not one bit, but seeing those damn pitying looks from the other nations made him feel small and useless. Something he swore he'd never be. He had enough of those looks to last a lifetime, he didn't need anymore.

He glances to the right, blinking when a chair slides from the table.

Gilbert situated himself with the rest, completely forgotten within the chaos Antonio had created, and seeing him now was a surprise. Ever since the dissolution of his nation, he'd stayed out of serious affairs whether personal or nation-wise preferring instead to take a back seat to the chaos that crept up around the world. He'd sit in on the world conferences, playing and then throw in a word or two of advice, that was somewhat insulting and humbling all at once.

People tend to forget that he was an old nation, not as old as China, but he was old.

Yet, here he was sitting in his place waiting quietly and making Alfred feel incredibly nervous.

The last time he had to explain anything to the Prussian[5] was during the American Revolution, and prank or not, he really had no desire to relive those events.

"Sprechen Korad Reimer![6]" Gilbert barked, making Alfred flinch.

The rest of their companions blinked confused, unable to understand the sudden insert of German in the nearly English dominated conversation.

But Alfred didn't care much for that. He was focused on something more pressing.

Apparently Toris wasn't the only one who could see through him and the fact Gilbert was resorting to_ that_ name, made Alfred flounder.

It confused the other nations dining with them, none of whom understood the significance of either the language or the name, and for that Alfred was thankful. European or not, German was not a language many of the other nations knew, let alone cared to learn. Especially since the end of World War II. Not that their people weren't learning but the personifications were a different story.

"Why the fuck are you yelling potato bastard? And in German dammit!" Lovino glared (apparently the fact that he, too was yelling escaped him). "Jones doesn't know-"

"He knows German." Gilbert said, evenly. "As well as Lithuanian and Estonian, Italian, and any of those _verdammt_ languages you can think of."[7] He finished tapering off but not taking his eyes from the American.

"And how would you know that?!" Lovino pressed, past the hair pulling stage, and into near hysterics with the frustrating conversation and the lack of comprehensive, simple answers. It was enough to drive someone up a wall,particularly someone like South Italy who had the patience range of a teaspoon.

"Lovino's got a point." Antonio added. "Until today no one knew about James, so how did you know anything about him, _mi amigo_?"

Gilbert shifted in his seat glancing toward Antonio, before focusing back to Alfred. "That's what you thought. James isn't some new development. He's been around for at while, ever since the-"

"The American Civil War." Alfred added in quietly staring intently into his lemonade. "That when James G. Jones was born." _And died. _He said, though the last part was only to himself. There was no need to destroy his prank already, and some part of him was...afraid to do so.

Toris blinked, finding himself a little more then just confused.

He thought Alfred was simply acting a little differently. He didn't know that there had been an actual personification for the Southern United States, let alone that America, himself had been though a Civil War. Until it occurred him why he didn't know.

During the 1900's he was still trying to get his people out from _Rusija _and separate himself from _Lekija. _Back, then he hadn't been paying much attention to the young nation across the Pacific, assuming as many others that the nation wouldn't last long.

Back then, America and what he was doing wasn't important, to either him or his people. It was only until the famine of the 1920's made him realize Alfred's opportunity.

Lovino cuts in again. "And? What does that have do with anything-"

"Think South Italy." Gilbert cut in. "You went to every world meeting, who was looking a little too closely at America?"

And then it hit the others with the force of an anvil.

"The Empires." They whispered, and only now the weight of everything makes a little more sense.

Even in the beginning when his country was burdened with problems, no one was talking to him-at least not in any helping position, as many of the Empires then weren't interested in the fledgling country barely making itself known. During that time, the only reason anyone looked to America was for excess trading opportunities and maybe some extra bragging. Even England with all his might, was more than likely _still_ pissed at Alfred for becoming independent and the ensuring problems from his colonies that represented. [8] Not to mention the national debt...

Any sign of weakness could have been fatal in the political atmosphere of the 1800's and 1900's. Europe wasn't exactly known for its diplomacy, and the fact that Alfred was surrounded by enemies did nothing to help. After all, he fought against his own brothers, what wasn't to say that one of the people who unofficially helped him wouldn't later become his enemy?

"So how did you meet the south-bastard?" Lovino asked heatedly.

Gilbert opened his mouth to reply when a sudden loud sound interrupted him.

Alfred blinked, barely recalling the sound of his own phone, and dug it out.

"Fifteen minutes till the meeting restarts." He said standing from his place. He slipped the last of his lemonade, and placed a number of bills on the table, conscious of the confused stares he was getting from the rest of the nations. [9] He waved the waitress down and after motioning to the table walked out leaving a set of very frustrated nations behind him.

All of whom were more then a little worried.

**XXxxxxXX**

He felt tired walking back to the meeting room, incredible so. He felt as if years had passed within that tiny restaurant, and his list of regrets was growing longer.

He knew he get interrogated at some point during this prank, but nothing prepared him for that. Lovino was expected, and maybe so was Toris, but Gilbert. He wasn't. Heck, for the duration of this prank, he'd pretty much assumed Gilbert would be with the bad touch trio, or even having a night on the town with everyone (including his OCD brother) busy. After all, that was what usually happened.

But that hadn't been the case, and frankly, he found himself a little out of his depth.

Maybe it would better if he just went to his room and arrived as 'Alfred' tomorrow instead of continuing this-

"Ve~ You okay _Signore_ Jones?" A voice said.

Alfred spun around, second away from having a heart attack.

Near him, a little too close for comfort[10] was Feliciano sporting a worried frown.

Alfred straightened up and fixing some of the wrinkles from his suit, tried feverishly to push his thoughts down. He accomplished it, mostly, because Feliciano stopped giving him that pitying look before Alfred designed to reply.

"Yes, I'm fine." He said, digging into his left pocket for his phone.

It was twelve fifty.

They had ten minutes until the meeting started-

"Pretending isn't good, _Signore_."

Alfred froze.

Every word caught in his month as he turned every so slowly around to face the Italian. A retort dying on his lips. There was something there different then before, something deeper.

"Whatever you told _fratello_, made him worried and sad. But be nice,_va bene?_ I hate bullies_." _

And with that the shorter nation skipped off leaving Alfred feeling that he was lower than dirt. Both for his words, and feeling that this whole prank was worthless, but that feeling only lasted second as a scorching angry went through him.

Without out any evidence or fanfare North Italy had automatically blamed him for Romano's feelings. Regardless of the fact, that he had no idea where the hell either of them had been, or even if they had lunch together.

Alfred sneered, a bitter feeling welding up in him as he marched forward.

All thoughts of giving up the prank vanishing like smoke.

It was time for the real games to begin.

**XXxxxxXX**

_"And thus, North Italy wouldn't know for a long time, just what he had done. Or even what he started."_

_-Taken from Tony's Journal [11]_

****XXxxxxXX****

_maledetti cretini_: Italian: damn jerks (I think)

_signore_: Italian: Mister

_Sprechen_: German: Talk, or to talk.

_verdammt_: German: damn

_mi amigo_: Spanish: my friend

_Rusija_: Lithuanian: Russia

_Lekija_: Lithuanian: Poland

[1] For those of you who are like me and only remember the countries by their plain and ordinary names, this here people is the official English title of Spain. The Spanish title is El Reino de Espana ('n' thing did not come out, if someone knows how to do those weird marks on the letters pm me I'm too lazy to figure it out at 3 am).

[2]Lovino has a bit of a problem expressing his feelings. Take this anyway you want. Remember **I know nothing!** Capice?

[3] For the purpose of this story, the **North American Brothers will refer to Alfred and James Jones** until further notice (or until someone like Francis is thinking, which I doubt). Sorry Canada, you haven't been much of a passing thought yet, but that's going to change soon enough.

[4] Canada's name for some reason, usually ends up a miss-match of Camadia that makes me scratch my head. Maybe people are confusing him with Cameron or something...?

[5] During the American Revolution, the Prussians, although they couldn't officially send help, they sent a Prussian General Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben to help with the revolution hoping to use America as a counter-balance to the British Empire.

[6] German names according to a website (whose url I have somewhere) are given to children who have one or both parents of German decent. America has a large percent of Germans 17.1%, a little more than 50 million so being giving a German name, and having great relations before and after WWII helps. Before WWII, and the Great Depression there were several companies, as well as food kitchens and etc. serves being offered in Germany, which as you can guess were cut during the 1920's.

[6b] The name Korad Reimer was a name given to Alfred by Gilbert during the American revolution before Alfred officially decided on his own name (using head cannon that former country must give a first name, while nation, itself gives their own last name). Konrad is (according name/conrad) Derived from the Germanic elements _kuoni_ "brave" and _rad_ "counsel", while Reimer was the last name of a famous Prussian writer who published a version of the Prussian alphabet in 1776. The name pays tribute to Alfred's daring fight against an enemy (England) no one really thought he could win against, and his literary achievements when writing the Declaration of Independence.

[7] Based on history, and world events the average nation knows only a few languages. English, because it is the de facto language which is usually only in the presence of humans, the nation tongue which encompasses all the languages there will be, and have been (no one really knows how it works, it just does), as well as native language and conquest languages if the nation has been successfully invaded. An example being Lovino who knows Spanish, Italian, English, Nation Tongue and some Latin, or Toris who knows English (Alfred taught him), Lithuanian, Russian, and Polish. Also, keep in mind as time moves forward some languages are forgotten, so Latin is disappearing from Lovino and Feliciano.

[8] Something that severely irritates me whenever I read it in fanfic. Yes, Alfred fought Arthur but darnnit Arthur did his share of crap too. Honesty, Arthur's not a saint, and both were at fault, but no I see it too often, and frankly the more I see it the more I'm beginning to dislike USUK (or vice versa) pairings. Most of the problems between the two are a back and forth of 'you-did-this-so-I'll-do-that' its ridiculous. During the American Revolution, England slapped a number of laws on the America colonies to make up for all the wars they fought and didn't have the money for, so they were trying to make up the debt. Yes, they protected American colonies, too, but that didn't make them penniless, that's their problem and they tried to solve it by taking the nearly none exist cash from Americans, many of which did not have actual British money considering trading and bartering was more common unless you were rich or a merchant.

[9] Okay, people time to learn tipping. Commonly a really bad mistake foreigners often make. Usually in a normal restaurant you are to tip the waitress 10% to 15% of your bill (aside from the bill itself) or 20% for excellent service. This is something of an unspoken rule, that if not done, will make your restaurant experience embarrassing for you, if you forget (and terrible if you plan to visit the same restaurant again). Not tipping, means your insulting the waitress or waiter, unless of course they are doing bad service then feel free but otherwise tipping is not an option, **do it**. Using the excuse of being a foreigner is pathetic, and if all else fails ask, and explain that you are a foreigner who is confused on whether to tip. More then likely, you will be answered warmly with a yes or no answer. Waitresses and waiters get less then minimum wage, and tips make up the difference. This was introduced and its part of the reason why America has great customer service, wage is based on customer satisfaction. At bars this is usually a dollar a drink, as most bartenders are paid the same way. For more information check out my other fan fiction 'Secrets From America' or pm me.

[9b] Also eating in a restaurant is usually not more then an hour, maybe a little more, for those of you, particularly foreigners who dine in America, so don't be surprised if you get weird looks after a while, if your just sitting there drinking after an hour, and you've already eaten. Unless of course its a bar, but otherwise, remember in America, **time is money**. Remember that.

[10]It's a custom in Europe to stand at best three feet from conversational partners and worst two feet, so Americans generally are not very comfortable with people being closer than four feet (1.2 m) than that unless we're friends or family, and this distance can change depending on the situation. Generally the rule is an arms length from your conversational partner unless otherwise told, contrary to popular brief is that although words are likely to be informally, check the distance. More than likely its your best clue to your relationship, especially with your US friends.

[11] Refers loosely to my other fanfiction 'Perspective', but can be taken as it is. Tony's is always watching...

**Author's Not**e: Longest damn break ever, but unfortunately necessary. My life is so fricking hectic. I'm finishing off community college and trying for a bigger university and what not, but I'm trying to get back to all this. Please forgive me! If not, feel free to roast me. I'll live!

Anyhow, Please **Read** and **Review**, so I know I haven't royally messed up this fanfic yet…


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